Shot in the Dark::CraneOCJoker
by KawaiiMode
Summary: What's real? What's not? Locked in an asylum where her hallucinations threaten to overcome her day after day, Isabella must escape the manipulations of the Doctor and avoid the fearful pull of Joker's charm as she meanders throughout her everyday life.
1. New Beginnings

**Hey guys. I am so incredibly sorry that I have not been on here in awhile.**

**School, work, personal health, etc., all have a hand in my long absence from here.**

**Hopefully with this new fanfiction I can get back on track.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The lack of sleep was really beginning to grate on her nerves. The hallucinations were back and were in full swing, lack of sleep withstanding, so her nerves were already shot. The three hours of sleep Isabella was able to muster up per night was not enough to keep the images at bay, and it was time to figure out a way to get the sleep she needed. Pills were not an option for her. Well, technically, they were an option but she did not want to have to resort to those nasty little things. The pills they gave out here in Arkham were strange, and seemed to make the patients more volatile. There was one fact, though, that she was most definitely sure of:<p>

At twenty three years old, Isabella was extremely tired of life.

If only her mother could have seen her as she stumbled forth throughout the years, hopping from foster home to foster home, until one of her foster parents had begun to whore her out. Her mother, the overzealous Catholic woman that she had been, would have had a heart attack had she known the prostitute that her daughter had become. The first ten years of her life having her mother beat her and tell her that she was going to become a harlot finally made sense. Her mother, in all of her strange overzealousness, had somehow known that this was the life she was going to lead. Then again, if the woman hadn't beaten the crap out of her so hard maybe then the school administrators wouldn't have noticed and then this whole "becoming a whore" thing wouldn't have occurred.

Maybe then she wouldn't be in an asylum where they kept the clinically insane criminals.

Now, Isabella didn't think that she was insane. Sure, she had hallucinations that enabled her mind to transport her into another world and let her escape from reality, but she was not insane. Then again, she had murdered the man her foster father had pimped her out to. Also, murdering her foster father probably hadn't helped her cause either. When the police officers had found her, she had been almost naked and had been covered in blood from the wounds that she had inflicted on that bastard pretend father of hers. The look in her eyes had been described as feral.

At the court hearing that had taken place about six or seven years ago one of the doctors from Arkham had determined that, due to the psychological abuse she had sustained from her mother prior to her being put into the system and due to the abuse she had suffered whilst living with her now deceased foster father, she had been driven to the point of madness that had, in theory, lead her to kill the ones that had chosen to harm her instead of going to the police.

Her attitude regarding the doctor's theory had been, "No shit, Sherlock." Seriously, how else was she going to handle it? The foster father had been a former police officer and had laughed after she had threatened to go to the police. "You can't go to them. I am the police. Anything I say will immediately make you look like a lying whore", he had told her. The slap and the beating that had come after that first threat had been the worst that she could recall. After that was when he started to pimp her out.

Anyway, needless to say, the doctor had recommended that she should be placed in Arkham after she turned eighteen since she was most likely permanently a danger to herself and others.

Once she had turned eighteen though, she could have sworn that her life was merely drifting by.

Each day was the same routine: get up, eat breakfast, take first dose of pills, recreation, meet with psychiatrists, eat lunch, free time in their cells, dinner, second dose of pills, visiting time, and then bed time. The cycle would repeat the next day, and the next, until the days just blended together. If it weren't for the calendar she had hung up in her cell Isabella wouldn't know what month or day it was. Hell, if it weren't for that stupid New Year's party that the Asylum threw for the patients and staff each year she probably wouldn't have even know what year it was.

Letting out a soft sigh, Isabella turned to look out the window of her cell and couldn't help feeling listless. The sun was barely beginning to peak out from the horizon which meant that it was almost five thirty A.M. "The joys of being an insomniac", she whispered to herself as she peered up on her tiptoes on top of her bed, "You always get to stay up to greet the sun every morning."

As the sun began to rose, Isabella couldn't help looking at her reflection in the mirror. The former short dark brown locks from when she had first entered this establishment were gone. In their place after six years of being institutionalized were platinum blonde locks that, when she didn't have them up and out of her face, rested at her mid back. With money that she had earned doing menial chores around the asylum, the young woman had managed to bribe one of the guards into purchasing and bringing back some of the blonde dye.

The change had been an interesting one to say the least.

The color had washed her out and, since she already had pale white skin, she looked like a wannabe vampire that had been living inside for most of her life. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than they used to be with the new coloring from the dye. The lack of sleep didn't help though, and the fact that she didn't eat much probably didn't help either. The food here was positively disgusting, but the cooks probably didn't care since the people that they were serving were crazy ass bastards anyway.

Sighing to herself, Isabella fixed up her hair in the reflection from the window before hopping off her bed. She would have loved to have a mirror in her room but, alas, due to the fact that she had tried to commit suicide and the fact that other patients had tried to commit suicide had prevented the usage of mirrors to be used in this establishment. Some bright SOB had thought that breaking a mirror and using the shards to cut his sorry ass self up in order to escape the birds that liked "pecking" at his skin. She had seen that episode of suicidal intent during the first six months of being here, and that had left a frightening impression on her.

Slicing up one's arm was just not the way to go if she wanted to die.

At this point in her life, though, she was too stubborn to die. There was so much life that she had yet to experience, and she hoped that one day something exciting and new would come whisk her away from this boring day to day bullshit.

Sighing once more, she couldn't help but to look back at the window and marvel at the blue sky outside. It was so clear and blue. The type of blue that came very rarely nowadays considering the air pollution and the light pollution that seemed to take on a mind of its one. It was a beautiful blue. Almost a periwinkle blue. Her jaw dropped, and her lips parted; her mind utterly absorbed by the complete blueness that had taken over the sky. The glaze that usually went over her eyes during a hallucination began to occur, but she didn't fight it.

The sky was such an incredible blue that Isabella barely noticed the hand that had grasped onto her shoulder.

"Miss. Romaneau?"

Jumping with a start, Isabella quickly whirled around and came face to face with her doctor.

"Dr. Crane?"

"How are you this fine morning, Miss. Romaneau?"

Her confused expression was enough to tell him that she had been on the cusps of another hallucination. The furrowed brow and the puzzlement was enough to tell him what he needed to know about how her morning had been going so far. He knew her, though, and knew that her pride would get in the way of telling him the truth.

"I'm doing okay, Doctor. I had a problem sleeping again, but what else is new?" She said matter-of-factly as she shrugged her shoulders. It had merely taken a minute, but she had managed to put herself back together again.

"Well maybe you should head down and get some breakfast. A full stomach might help put you to sleep, and ease your mind, hm?"

The tone of his voice was gentle and kind; the slight interest in his eyes managed to convey a sense of caring. Over the past six years that she had been here, Isabella was still not entirely sure what to make of this man that stood in front of her. The best thing to do, though, was to agree with him. Hell, the best thing to do while in this place was to agree with anyone that was here.

"Yes, Doctor. I think I will do just that."

On that note, Isabella gave him a smile and quickly made her exit from the room. She hoped to God that the food would put her to sleep like the Doctor thought, but she held little hope that it would. Whilst she was meandering to the cafeteria, the Doctor was still standing in her room. The smirk on his face was enough to make anyone squirm.

"Such an interesting woman. Unfortunately, I don't have time to merely focus all my attention on her now that," He paused a bit in his musings as he took out a notebook regarding the details of his next patient, "This new patient of mine is going to be taking up my time. He's such a little anarchist."

The picture of a seemingly handsome man in his thirties stared up at him and he couldn't help marveling over his new potential specimen. The devil may care attitude that the man seemed to possess just in the picture alone made him want to get in a room with him, and just observe him for a couple of hours. The man had murdered countless of civilians due to the mere fact that he was bored, and wanted to cause chaos. A man with no name, and no fingerprints who just happened to piss off the wrong people was being sent here to be placed under his supervision? The challenge was utterly titillating.

The same challenge he had with his little patient, Isabella, as well. That woman refused to let him in and to let him observe how her inner mind worked. The hallucinations were, of course, through the medications he had prescribed her in order to make her lean on him and open up to him. The woman, though, was still too stubborn to open up despite the physical and mental limitations his little pills had on her. The woman was by no means insane, but the fact that she had refused to let him in had astounded him.

That was the only reason why he had recommended her to be placed her at Arkham.

Mere and utter fascination.

Sometimes it truly was a pleasure to wield the title Doctor. Labels and categories appealed to the law enforcement in Gotham, and he loved wielding this status of his.

Suddenly the Doctor's cell phone went off, and he couldn't help feeling a similar feeling of glee that little children felt when they had discovered a new toy. With a flick of the wrist he opened up the phone and pressed send, placing the phone to his ear as he accepted the call. The deep tone of one of his subordinates radiated throughout his ear, and a sense of calm washed over him. A deep smile crinkled his face, and made the glasses on his nose slide down a bit.

The new patient had arrived.

This indeed was going to be an interesting twist to everyone's day-to-day routine.

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><p><strong>Oh my goodness!<strong>

**My first chapter posted in over a year. I feel so proud of myself that I finally got one back on here.**

**woot!**

**Anyway, let me know how this chapter was and in merely a constructive way, let me know what is working and what isn't working.**

**Also, please let me know if you I should post a character profile for Isabella. I know for some people it helps give a clearer picture as to who the OC is.**

**Alrighty. I am going to go crash. I hope you all have an awesome night.**

**And please review!**


	2. Said the Spider to the Fly

**Chapter two so quickly out.**

**Got to love how writing is coming easily to me right now.**

**I wanted to give credit to Mary Howitt's the Spider and the Fly, which I am using throughout this chapter.**

**Hope you guys like it.**

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><p>"Will you walk into my parlor, dear?"<p>

The familiar whimsical sound of one of the other inmates's voice, a rather creepy fifty something year old man, made the hairs on the back of her neck raise. The man asked her this question whenever she was in the cafeteria, and had asked her it almost every day since she had been institutionalized in here. One would think that the guards would have paid attention to the man's attentions towards her, but most didn't care. They didn't get paid enough to work here, and so a lot of acts that weren't considered dangerous were left unnoticed. So, while she slowly strode over to the side of the cafeteria with the trays, she had to endure this man following her.

"Tis the prettiest little parlor that you ever did spy. The way into my parlor is up the winding stair, and I've a many curious things to show when you are there."

The excitement in the man's voice was just so creepy, but it didn't bother her as much as it used to. One of the patients had taken their time to explain to her, while they were in one of their more lucid moments, what had happened to the poor man. Apparently about ten years ago he had come from work to find his wife, his teenage daughter, and his five year old son murdered brutally in his home. The teenage daughter and wife had been brutalized in ways that Isabella had a feeling she was familiar with. Apparently seeing his family slaughtered had broken his sanity and now he was here in Arkham after trying to kill the police officers and himself when they had finally responded to the 911 call that he had made.

Honestly, she was not surprised that he had snapped. The type of things that had occurred to her before she had been forced to enter this "safe" place had been the stuff to make any grown man cry and wish for death. If what had happened to his wife and daughter had been true, then the man behind her that had formed some sort of attachment to her was justified as to why he was insane. It was pitiful, but somehow she was able to put up with this fellow much more easily than she had before. Thank the Gods for bestowing empathy to her.

While the older man prattled on about the things that were in his parlor, Isabella looked at the selection for today's breakfast. Grits, and hash potatoes tended to be the usual. Sometimes the asylum could scrounge up some type of meat product every other day and today it seemed like they had found some bacon to give to the inmates, albeit the tiniest pieces of bacon ever. Picking up a plate, and the plastic spoons that they passed out, she handed the plate to one of the cafeteria workers and let them do their thing. They always gave her unusually large helpings in a sad, misguided attempt to get her to gain weight.

Yes, she was petite and yes, she looked like the waif that she felt like but there was no way in hell that she would be able to gain weight with their efforts. This just seemed to have Doctor Crane's hands all over this. He was always trying to find a way to get her to things his way. It was rather annoying at times, but she admired his persistence in trying to help her.

When the cafeteria server handed her the dish back, she placed it on the tray before trying to figure out where the heck she was going to sit. While pondering, a huge bang was heard outside in the hallway causing everyone's attention to turn to the sound. Maniacal laughter erupted from behind the doors, and the shuffling of feet running towards the cafeteria had her senses on edge.

What the hell was going on?

From what she could recall from listening to the guards chatting with each other while she had been heading to the cafeteria, a new patient was arriving today. From what she had overheard this new patient was highly dangerous and had killed a ton of people, but given the fact that half of the people that were contained here were in this new guy's general skill level, she wasn't surprised by any of this. It didn't surprise her that this new guy was being sent their way, and that he was considerably dangerous. Hopefully, though, he didn't decide to screw around with her because she wasn't going to take it.

Sighing to herself, Isabella had decided to just ignore the commotion that was occurring outside and had started making her way over to her usual table closest to the windows. The sunlight was what she needed right now. Its warmth was enough to brighten up her day just a little bit, and boy did she need that little bit of brightening up today. Although it was only seven A.M, she could already tell it was going to be a long and arduous day that most likely would grate on her nerves quite a bit. Her nerves, having already been frazzled prior to her waking up this morning, were not happy campers right now. What she needed was a little pick-me-up.

The man from before had tapped her on the shoulder, letting her know that she was supposed to help continue his strange spheel before they were to dine.

"Anna, what's the next line?"

God, she really hated that he called her that. It made her feel weird that he called her by his dead daughter's name. Sighing to herself, she placed her tray on the table and turned to address him.

"Oh no, no, to ask me is in vain, for who goes up your winding stair can never come down again."

A smile popped right up on that old man's face, and soon he was happily reciting away the tale of that damnable spider that just loved tricking those flies. That was when she realized that she needed one more thing – Coffee!

"I'll be right back, Mr. Spider.", Isabella managed to say politely before she hopped back up to go see if she could bribe that lovely cafeteria worker from before to give her some of that delicious cup of Joe. She was going to need the coffee if she was going to go one throughout the day without worrying that Doctor again. He was already questioning her sleeping habits again, and she really didn't need him on her case right now.

A couple of minutes later and after successfully bribing that amazing worker with money for the coffee, the young woman was slowly meandering back to the table when the doors to the cafeteria crashed open with a bang. The loud crash made her jump with a start; the hard earned cup of coffee slipping from her fingers, and smashed all over the floor with a sound to match that slammed door from before.

"Goddamnit!"

Her precious coffee, the hardearned specimen of brightness that she needed to help herself function almost daily, was now splattered all over the floor. The rich savory smell wafted from the porcelain white surface of the tiles, and it didn't take her long to get pissed.

Curses filled the room as a group of guards began escorting an individual over to the table right next to hers, and she secretly promised herself that she would curse them later under her breath while she prayed to that damnable God that belonged to her mother. Those bastards had made her spill her coffee. Didn't they know that coffee was her survival mechanism? Damn them. Damn them to hell.

Before any of the suicidal inmates got any ideas, she went back over to the cafeteria worker and explained what happened. The disappointment on her face was enough to convince him to give her another cup of coffee, but also convinced him to go out there to clean it up. Thank the Lord for feminine wiles, and the fact that she looked like a genuine rag-a-muffin.

With her new cup of coffee, and a relatively nice firm grip on the cup's handle, she quickly walked back on over to her table where the lovely old man was sitting and talking to himself again. Taking a sip of the delicious brew, although it was mere swill compared to what she was used to outside of these walls, she couldn't help smiling.

That is until she started to feel someone staring at her.

This feeling was normal in the Asylum, but this was an unusual feeling. It was like she was being consumed from the inside and out, and it was giving her goosebumps all over her fair white skin. She remembered this feeling well from when her foster father was still alive, and had made her stand in front of groups of men to let them ogle her.

This sensation of being scanned up and down was too familiar, and almost completely ruined her mood. Darkness began to cloud her mind; her breaths began to come out in panicked pants until the old man touched her arm again.

"Anna, are you alright?"

That broke her out of it, and soon she was giving the old man a smile despite the fact that he had called her by the wrong name again.

"Thanks, Mr. Spider. I'm doing better. Just felt a little weird is all."

Still feeling someone gazing at her, Isabella began to look around the room until she noticed the man at the table across from hers. The new patient? The new patient was staring at her?

Her eyes widened a bit as she took him; his disheveled uncaring appearance was apparent especially since he looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in weeks. Despite the bruises that covered his body, she could tell that he had once been a rather handsome man whom appeared to be in his late twenties, possibly his early thirties, but something was off about his face. Narrowing her eyes, she focused around his mouth and couldn't help pausing to make sure she didn't gasp.

He had scars on his face. They were deep scars that seemed to stretch, what would have been a natural smile, up to the high points of his cheeks. There was a term for it, but she wasn't entirely sure. There were some smudges where what looked like makeup used to be, but the scars on his face almost looked like they were infected. They couldn't be infected at this point, though, because those scars looked old. Maybe four years worth?

The smirk on the man's face really was beginning to bother her, and he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was taking her in as if she was on sale at the supermarket. As much as this bothered her, she couldn't help rolling her eyes. This guy obviously wanted her to be bothered. He obviously wanted to get under her skin, and she wouldn't give him that pleasure.

"There are pretty curtains drawn around. The sheets are fine and thin, and if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"

It took her a moment to realize that the old man whom was now sitting to her left was still reciting that damn poem of his, but it created the distraction that she needed in order for her to ignore the strange new patient seated across the way from them.

"Oh no, no, for I've often heard it said, they never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

While Isabella was distracted, she didn't even notice the other pair of eyes staring at her from across the room; the eyes that observed her every move whilst she interacted with the patient to the left of her, and observing her reactions to the new patient that had been staring at her blatantly. The good Doctor Crane couldn't help but observe his two most important specimens while they were in a more public domain.

He needed to find a weakness for both Isabella and that new patient of his, and with his new set of drugs that he had finally finished completing; he was ready to use those two as his new experiments.

Yes, those two would be the key to him finally figuring out a way to unleash fear inside a person while also controlling said person. His two most important specimens would be his key to controlling Gotham once again.

He had done it once. He would do it again.

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><p><strong>Wow. I managed to get another one out the next day.<strong>

**So much inspiration for this series, and I am not entirely sure why.**

**Let's hope I can keep it up.**

**Please let me know how you think I am doing so far, and please PLEASE review this story. **

**Let me know what you like and dislike, albeit, constructively so I can see what I need to improve on or elaborate on.**

**Okie dokie. I am going to go crash now. **

**Don't forget to review and good night to all!**


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